Chapter 5 Reduced to nothing

Chapter 5

Yana’s POV

TWO MONTHS LATER

I could barely get air into my lungs since the black cloth mask I had on was pulled tight across my nose and mouth, it was quite uncomfortable, but I was not about to pull it down. Not in front of all these people.

Sweat kept dripping straight into my eyes, blurring the sight of my opponent in front of me, and even the moldy air inside the fight ring smelled awful.

It smelled like spilled cheap beer, wet concrete and rust.

Every single breath I took through the now wet fabric of my nose mask felt like I was one inch away from losing consciousness, making my chest ache, but taking it off meant showing my face, and showing my face meant ending what little hope at life I had left.

The girl across from me kept bouncing on her feet, wheezing fast and taking noisy breaths through her teeth in exhaustion.

We were in the second round now, and she looked desperate to end the match with the last bit of strength she had left in her, which was in my favor.

She let her guard completely open, her elbows flaring out wide like an amateur who had never been hit hard in her life.

She had been fighting in pure anger all along, throwing sloppy, wild swings just trying to get a quick knockout for the small crowd yelling around the ring. I kept my gloves held high near my chin, staying light on my feet, and waited.

I had observed her through the first round and had noticed how her left shoulder swooped down low every single time she had prepared to throw a right punch.

It looked like a habit of hers, and I was just waiting for her to do it again.

She moved in fast again, sending a heavy right blow straight at my chin with everything she had behind it. I had to make a split-second move right then. I could have slipped out of the way to the right, but I wanted to end this fight right now. I had stalled the fight just so I could appear as an amateur too and not get found out.

So instead of dodging, I pushed my chin into my collarbone, braced my legs, and took her flying punch right to the side of my jaw.

Pain blasted through my head and my teeth shook hard at that impact, but allowing her to land that blow gave me the exact angle I needed.

I planted my left foot deep into the canvas and threw a heavy, compact hook straight into the right side of her body, right under her ribs.

The connecting punch made a loud, wet thud that echoed over the noise of the room. All the air exploded out of her lungs at once as she gasped harshly.

Her eyes rolled back into the back of her head, her knees gave out under her, and she hit the canvas hard, remaining completely still for seconds.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

A few people in the small crowd cheered, but most of them just yelled out angry curses because they had lost their money.

The referee stepped over, grabbed my wrist with his harsh palms, and jerked my arm up into the air. I did not give a single damn about winning this match.

I snatched my hand right back out of his grip, slipped between the ropes, and walked away from the ring before anyone could step up and get a proper look at me.

My chest was crying for fresh air behind the mask, but I still left the mask pulled up firmly over my nose as I walked down the slightly dark, filthy hallway to the back room.

The organizer sat behind a wooden table, he had a half-empty glass of brown liquor sitting next to a stack of crumpled cash that was held together with a brown rubber band.

He looked up from counting his money when I pushed the door completely open, sending me a smile only to display his less than thirty-two worth of yellow teeth.

"Damn, kid... you really did put her down fast," he muttered, shaking his head as he pulled a few worn, dirty bills from his stack.

When I had walked in a week ago looking to compete, he had not asked why I had a black mask pulled over my face, and I did not bother telling him anything. In this local boxing ring a lot of things were overlooked.

He signed a piece of paper, slid it over to me, and handed me a thin brown envelope. He counted the cash-out right in front of my face on the wooden table. Six fifty-dollar bills. Three hundred dollars total.

It was a funny joke compared to the thousands of dollars I used to make for a fight back when I was in the spotlight, but right now, three hundred bucks was the only thing that would be keeping food on our table for the week.

I checked the cash inside the envelope, grabbed my heavy leather jacket off the back of a plastic chair nearby, and shoved the envelope deep into the inner pocket.

I zipped the jacket all the way up to my chin to hide my neck and turned around to leave without saying a single word to him.

"Hey! Hold up!"

I did not even make it five steps down the dark hallway before the girl I had just knocked stepped out from behind a row of stacked up boxes. Three of her boxer friends were standing right behind her, now blocking my path out.

Her face was bright red from the blows she had taken, and a dark purple bruise was already popping up on her ribs where my last hook had dug into her just under her sports bra.

My eyes sharpened as one of her male friends swung at my head out of nowhere, his fist whistled through the air. On instinct, I slipped my head fast under his arm and ducked out of the way of his punch, but as I moved, another hand reached out fast from the side and ripped my face mask off my ears.

The cold air hit my sweaty face instantly. Before I could turn my back to them or cover my face with my arm, all three of them stopped dead in their tracks and stared at me.

Then they burst into laughter. My hands folded into tight fists at my sides.

"I knew it," the girl sneered loudly, taking a step closer to me with a bitter look on her face. "It is Yana Volk. AKA The cheat, or should I say the fraud? I bet if the organizer finds out who you really are, he will throw your lying ass out of here."

"The almighty Yana Volk fighting for pocket change in a dive gym," her male friend snickered, his hand quickly reaching into his back pocket. "Hold on, let me get a video of this for the internet..."

My hands balled into tight fists, the knuckles turning pure white. Everything inside my body wanted to step forward and smash her jaw right this moment.

But then I caught the sight of the male boxer slowly raising his phone up to capture the moment just two feet away. If my face got posted online, my whole life would blow up again, the news reporters would find where we were staying, and the media nightmare would start all over.

I forced myself to stand completely still, breathing the building anger out through my nose. "Stay out of my way," I said flatly, turning my back to the raised phone.

I reached out quickly and snatched my face mask back from the guy holding it, and pulled it back over my face. I turned my back to walk off, but I heard the sound of light footsteps on the concrete floor behind me.

Without even looking fully back, I stepped out of the way of her flying punch, my hand darting out and shoved her hard in the upper back, using her own weight against her. She lost her balance and went flying sideways before crashing right into a metal trash can by the lockers.

I did not stick around to hear her friends shouting or her groans of pain. I pushed through the glass doors of the exit and stepped out into the freezing evening.

I pulled my leather jacket tighter around my body.

Three hundred dollars. I kept doing the math over and over again in my head as my boots hit the deserted road. It was just enough money for groceries for the week and a little bit to spare towards my dad's medicine... and then there was the issue of rent money.

Two months. That was how long it had been since that night in the company lobby, but it felt like ten years had passed.

The endless court cases, the high-priced lawyers who took our money and abandoned us, and even our bank accounts and assets had been frozen.

My mother's weak heart could not take the humiliation and shame. She had passed away just three weeks after the federal raid while my father was stuck behind bars.

And now, my dad... he was out on medical bail for now, but he was not the same man anymore. He spent all day sitting in his wheelchair just staring blankly at the peeling wallpaper.

I bit my lower lip hard trying to push away the fresh sting from the cut on my jaw. I needed to get back home before the temperature dropped any lower.

I walked fast down another quiet street, keeping my head down and pulling my hood low over my eyes to block out the freezing wind. I was moving too fast, lost in my own thoughts, and as I turned a sharp corner, I rammed full force right into someone walking the other way.

The hard impact sent the person falling backward with a silent thud.

"Oh damn! I am so sorry!" I said quickly, quickly stepping forward right away to help.

The guy lying on the pavement was Asian, with pale skin, sharp features, and styled dark hair falling across his forehead. At first glance, he looked quite weak sitting there on the ground, but as he moved to pick himself up, the sleeves of his fitted shirt rode up, showing arms that were very toned with muscle. It was extremely unusual to see an Asian guy in this rough part of town, especially someone who looked like that.

"Here, let me help you up," I muttered, extending my hand to him.

He didn't say a word, just took my hand and pulled himself up quietly. As he stood, I noticed his small black duffel bag had fallen when he fell over too.

"Let me get your bag," I leaned down to grab the handle for him.

The second my fingers reached the material of the bag straps, his hand darted out so fast that before I could even lift it an inch, his fingers clamped around the strap with a tight grip and yanked the bag clean out of my hold.

A sticky moisture clung to the tips of my fingers where I had touched the strap for a second. I pulled my hand back and stared at my palm.

It was small, but there was red blood smeared on the tops of my fingers.

I froze for a second, my throat going dry as I looked up and locked eyes directly with his.

A cold shiver ran all the way down my spine.

I couldn't even find the words to describe the feeling I got looking into his face. His expression didn't change, and his posture didn't move either, but his eyes were completely empty.

Looking into them felt like staring into the eyes of a dead man.